


I Will Buy You a Garden Where Your Flowers Can Bloom

by jacksparrow589



Series: And When I Hold You Close, the Truth Becomes a Lot Less Scary [1]
Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Yearning to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort probably applies too, Mutual Pining, Rejected Confession, Sharing a Bed, Sick Bed Confession, and by they I mostly mean Anne, at first anyway, but they get there eventually, does not follow s3 canon, takes place during Redmond years, they make this harder than it needs to be, with a lot of crying along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksparrow589/pseuds/jacksparrow589
Summary: It starts—as stories are wont to do—with an apple.It doesn't really start there, of course. There's a prologue of sorts: a chance encounter in the woods. It's the stuff of fairy tales, with a knight, a dragon, and a damsel.Anne hates that it was that way, for the record. Princess Cordelia needed no rescuing, and she endeavors to be the same.She hates a lot of things about those first couple days, but, try though she did at first, she never managed to hate Gilbert Blythe.------------Based most heavily on AWAE, but pulls elements particularly from the books (see the tags)… Of course, they still go through a bit of hell before getting together because some things never change.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Anne Shirley
Series: And When I Hold You Close, the Truth Becomes a Lot Less Scary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158080
Comments: 30
Kudos: 111





	I Will Buy You a Garden Where Your Flowers Can Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hello!
> 
> I've been on a 90s alt rock kick lately, as that is the music of my childhood, and the song for this fic (Everclear's "I Will Buy You a New Life") came on, and I was like, "Ooh, modern Shirbert fic!" The modern part… clearly did not happen. But the fic part did!
> 
> Just in case you missed it in the tag mess, this is not exactly canon-compliant for season 3. Particularly that Mary didn't die, but also, there was no Winnie (at least, not romantically), and Anne and Gilbert didn't get together.

_**part 1** _

It starts—as stories are wont to do—with an apple.

It doesn't really start there, of course. There's a prologue of sorts: a chance encounter in the woods. It's the stuff of fairy tales, with a knight, a dragon, and a damsel.

Anne hates that it was that way, for the record. Princess Cordelia needed no rescuing, and she endeavors to be the same.

She hates a lot of things about those first couple days, but, try though she did at first, she never managed to hate Gilbert Blythe.

She does, however, hate the little scar she gave him. It's no bigger than her smallest fingernail, and visible only if the light hits it right, but Gilbert has a habit of resting his chin in his palm when he's studying, and his fingers curl up his cheek and wind up pointing more or less directly at the spot. He's doing it right now. Anne wonders if he does it on purpose. Gilbert is certainly a gentleman, but, like Anne, he hasn't entirely outgrown his mischievous tendencies.

And he's caught her staring. Damn. Anne's heart leaps around in her chest, and if she wasn't so keenly aware of what that means, she'd ask Gilbert if it is at all possible for the heart to just flutter up and away. Even if she wanted to say something, however, she finds herself completely unable to say anything at all when the corners of his mouth twitch upward and stay there. Much to her chagrin, she's completely and utterly flustered.

"Thinking of taking up medicine instead?" He murmurs. "Do I need to be worried that our competition might not be over?"

Well, she knows how to respond to _that._ "If you thought our competition was ever over, you've already lost," she drawls back. "It may not be direct, but I'm certain we can find some comparisons to make."

" _We can find comparisons_?" Gilbert echoes as he raises an eyebrow. "I think you may have just admitted that your focus has strayed from outdoing me, as well."

"I admit nothing," Anne informs him pointedly before looking back at her notes. She may not be completely able to focus still, but she's going to look like it. Some things never change. 

* * *

_"Well,_ I _mind. I can fend for myself! Do you even know what my quest is?"_

_As soon as the words leave Anne's mouth, even without Gilbert looking like Anne's just taken another slate to his face, she seems to realize that the answer is, in fact, no. She sighs. "I'm sorry. Of course you don't. I thought Bash and Mary might have mentioned it, but I can see why they might view saying so as a betrayal of trust." She takes a few measured breaths and manages a faint smile."I'm looking for my parents. For records of them, I mean. They died of fever when I was three months old, and I… I had the audacity to live."_

_The matter-of-fact way she says it tells Gilbert Anne's heard that despicable opinion often enough. It's infuriating. He wants to demand the name of every single person who's ever implied as much, and his anger compounds on its own because he knows how long of a list that must be. He can't make this about his own feelings, though, so instead, he says, "I thought you were visiting Cole?"_

_Anne nods. "I am, sort of. Cole is coming with me."_

_Gilbert's fury is replaced with a dull ache. "Anne, if you'd told—if I'd known, I would have been happy to come with you on the entire trip. I can take a day off."_

_"I couldn't ask that of you!" Anne protests. "I know you would, I mean, but I… it's not your responsibility. And Cole is happy to accompany me!"_

_If Gilbert hadn't previously studied the way Cole and Anne look at each other to see if it was the same way Bash tells him he looks at Anne, he'd worry. But he knows that their feelings for each other, if more than friendly, are that of siblings rather than sweethearts. And besides, Anne has referred to Cole many times as a "kindred spirit", the same as she calls Diana, Miss Stacy, and every author she loves._

_He could be fooling himself, of course. Maybe Anne freezes the same way with someone else as she did with him in front of the Christmas tree. Maybe she shares the same shy smiles. Maybe none of those things mean to her what they mean to him._

_But maybe—just maybe—they do._

_Now is neither the time nor the place to bring it up, however. "Well, I hope… I hope your quest goes well. If you need anything more, I'm happy to help. And if you're willing to share, I'd like to know what you find."_

_Anne looks a little stunned, and maybe just a little teary for a moment. She gulps and nods. "I will," she says quietly. "Thank you, Gilbert." Her hand twitches, as if she wants to reach out for his. Gilbert has to stop himself from doing the same. Anne instead brings her hand up to discreetly wipe her eyes. "So, are there any interesting patients today?"_

_Gilbert gives her a half-smile. "Perhaps; Saturdays are usually left open for anyone who has an urgent need. It does lend itself to tales afterward, though."_

_Anne's own smile, though slight, is genuine. "So, a tale for a tale on the way home, then?" she offers._

_Now grinning fully, Gilbert agrees, "You've got a deal."_

* * *

"Anne? Anne?" Gilbert taps the desk in front of her with his pen. "I didn't bring any lunch. I'm going to go find something to eat. Do you want to join me?"

Anne knows what this is. Gilbert does this. Not too often, of course, but often enough for her to see the pattern. She's never said as much, but while she's comfortable with owing, she is not so much with being owed. He'll always show his appreciation for her doing something for him in some way, of course. At the very least, she gets a polite thank you, but usually, it's something at least a bit more in-depth. He wants to let her know she's not taken for granted. He's never said it in so many words, either—there are just some things that go unspoken between them, usually things that would fundamentally alter their friendship were they to be admitted—but Anne knows by now.

She also knows that she gave him one of her sandwiches the last time they studied together, and also lent him a pencil when his snapped. Of course, he thanked her at the time. (His exact words, seared permanently into Anne's brain, had been "What would I do without you?") However, he'd done it in a way that let her know that he felt the scales needed a little more balancing in Anne's favor, just as she knows that this is his chosen method of doing so. She's never sure whether it's his tone or his expression; perhaps it's just all the things she knows about him catalogued and ready to deduce from.

He's still waiting for her answer. "Of course! Just let me gather my things."

Gilbert makes only the smallest moves to help her, letting her arrange her belongings as she sees fit. She's not terribly particular about it, but it's one of his ways of giving her space and freedom. She used to feel like he was examining her to find her faults, but now she knows better.

They chat amicably as they walk to the small shop just a few blocks from campus, Gilbert recounting to Anne a case study they're looking at in class, and Anne animatedly describing her latest writing assignment.

As they eat, they each ask questions of the other regarding their current courses of study, and talk about the upcoming term break. They'll both be back in Avonlea until the fall term, and it's unclear whether Anne is more excited to see the Cuthberts or Gilbert is more excited to see Bash and Mary and Dellie, and to meet Isaac, the newest addition to the family, born just after Easter.

Of course, they're each excited to see the other's family, as well. Over the last few years, they've grown close, the need for help during Mary's illness and recovery the spring before Anne and Gilbert left for Queen's only serving to accelerate the process. Gilbert loves the liveliness of his chosen family, of course, but he occasionally escapes to the Cuthberts when he needs a bit more peace and quiet than a house with small children can offer, and Anne still takes cooking lessons from Mary and trades off pages while helping teach Dellie to read.

They talk for longer than they mean to. They often do. And then it's a race to both apologize first and blame the other; just one more amusing joke shared between them. Anne has promised her roommate Phil help with Phil's own essay, so Gilbert walks her back to her lodgings, and they agree to meet the next day to study in the library after classes are done.

They linger out front of the house Anne's staying in, just talking until Anne realizes it's been a bit too long and stammers a hasty goodbye just as, of all the luck, Phil opens the door, looking ready to call for Anne. Upon seeing who her friend is speaking with, Phil instead smirks and informs Anne that she's late, and that "Royal Gardner was by earlier looking for you. He seemed awfully disappointed you were out."

"How terrible for him," Anne says, only sounding half-hearted about it. Roy might be handsome, but handsome isn't everything. Something about Roy is just a little distant, a little slippery, and a little too _much_ all at the same time. Anne puts Roy out of her mind and turns to Gilbert. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gilbert."

Gilbert nods. "Good day, Anne, Phil." He turns and walks away, and Anne ignores Phil's wicked grin as they head inside.

* * *

"Ah, here you are, Anne. Phil told me you'd headed to the library."

Gilbert sighs inwardly, only just managing to keep it so. Roy has been getting bolder and bolder about seeking Anne out, despite any attention from Anne being far and away less enthusiastic than Roy's. She hasn't turned him away entirely, though, and it always leaves Gilbert uneasy because he doesn't know whether Anne is trying to politely deflect or if she's considering Roy but unsure of how to proceed as of yet.

Anne isn't Gilbert's. She's not anyone's. She doesn't want to be. She won't be held back, limited, or subjugated to anyone's will. She craves freedom, options, the ability to shape her own destiny—she's made that more than clear. Gilbert once overhead Mary telling Bash about Anne's promise to herself to be the Bride of Adventure, and when Anne puts her mind to a thing, she is a force to be reckoned with.

More than that, though, as he's all too aware, Anne does not react well to being pushed or pulled. Gilbert has the distinct notoriety of having done both, though only he and Anne are aware of this fact.

He'd meant to talk to her prior to leaving Avonlea, but he could never get the time or the words right. He'd come close that night at the Ruins, as they departed their post-entrance-exam celebration. They'd walked home together, and he'd wanted so, so badly to tell her how he felt, but then Anne started talking about the possibilities opening up for her, and how she was going to be an independent woman, and, drunk though Gilbert had been, he'd judged it a poor time to follow that up with the suggestion they court, particularly if he was misreading her.

Half-way through their first (and only, as it transpired) winter term at Queen's, however, he'd found himself unable to hold off any longer.

"It could have gone worse" was perfectly true, but it was no less cold comfort for it.

* * *

_Anne blinks at Gilbert. She knows what she's just heard, but she still can't quite believe it. "You… want to court me?" She waits for Gilbert's nod before a second question slips out, almost too quiet to hear: "Why?"_

_Gilbert seems to have anticipated this question, and Anne's not sure how she feels about that. "Anne, I've liked you from the day we've met, and the more we've gotten to know each other, I've only become more certain. You're smart, you're tenacious, you stand up for what you believe in… You make me laugh and you make me think, and I admire you so much, but more than that, I—Anne, I love you."_

_Anne brings a trembling hand to cover her mouth. She should have seen this coming. In hindsight, it's perfectly obvious, so even she's surprised when her response is "I won't be tied down."_

_It's Gilbert's turn to blink. "Tied d—what? I'd never want that for you, Anne. Never. Didn't I just say…"_

_"I know you don't want that for me. But you… you're going to be a doctor someday. Someone who needs a respectable wife to manage a house. And maybe that's something I'll want someday, but I don't want to make that choice because of the impacts choosing otherwise will have on someone else; someone I—care very deeply for. You saw what happened when I wrote even tangentially about what happened to Josie, and Billy had me cornered in the forest the day we met because of something I said about Prissy. I can't guarantee that I won't provoke further reactions in the future, and no matter—" Her voice finally breaks, but she continues, "No matter how much I… Gilbert, I just can't put anyone else through that."_

_"Do you think I can't handle it?" Gilbert wants to know._

_"No! But you don't deserve to have that on your shoulders." Anne swipes the inside of her wrists across her eyes, knowing it's futile. Tears course down her cheeks._

_Gilbert takes a few deep breaths, and Anne can see that keeping composed is as much a struggle for him as it is for her, and she's already failed. It breaks her heart even more. "Anne, I'd happily shoulder that with you. I don't understand what's holding you back. If you don't feel the same way for me as I do for you, just please, tell me!"_

_Anne's only response is to keep weeping. She'll break his heart now to spare him the pain later, but she won't lie to him about this. In between sobs, she manages to gasp, "I can't tell you that."_

_Gilbert gives her the tiniest of nods, and his eyes are so bright with tears that Anne can't bear it. She's doing the right thing, isn't she? She won't deny that Gilbert knows his own mind, but she knows hers and what she can live with. She won't pretend, and she won't make a choice that hurts more people than necessary._

_"Gilbert, I—I should go home," she murmurs. "I'm sorry."_

_"I know," he whispers._

_Anne takes her leave, tears rolling down her cheeks all the way back to the boardinghouse. Thankfully, she makes it up to her room without being seen before collapsing next to the bed and weeping until she can weep no more._

* * *

It had taken until half-way through their first year at Redmond for things to return to normal. It's a few weeks after Easter of their third year now, so their peace is nothing new, but unfortunately, neither is Roy's fascination with Anne.

Gilbert is persistent, but he is also patient. It helps that he's realistic. If he can remain by Anne's side, even as a friend, that can be enough for him. He won't marry anyone else, and while he can't promise he wouldn't say a thing if Anne did, he'd do his damnedest not to if it were clear that she was in love.

He is bound and determined not to say anything about Roy unless Anne does first, but it's swiftly growing more difficult the pushier Roy gets. The only thing keeping him silent is the knowledge that his motivation to speak up would be for his own gratification as much as for Anne, and it's not his place to make that decision for her.

He can, however, say some things for himself. "Gardner, this is a library, and everyone in here, save yourself, is trying to study."

He nearly snaps a second pencil when Roy's response is to appear to ignore him while simultaneously taking his implied request to heart. "Very well. Anne, would you please accompany me?"

Anne stands abruptly and slams her own pencil down, takes Roy's elbow, and stalks out of the library.

Like everyone else in the library, Gilbert is pretending not to listen. Also like everyone else in the library, he is not succeeding in the least as Anne proceeds to utterly lambaste Roy in a rather more public setting than he'd bargained on.

"I've been polite up 'til now, going on walks with you and not turning down conversation… I firmly believe in giving others a chance. You've been given so many chances, and while you've proven you could _offer_ me anything, you've also proven that you cannot _provide_ me respect on the most fundamental of levels.

"How dare you continue to bother me after it is clear that I am busy, and how _dare_ you treat my friend like he isn't fit to scrape dirt off the bottom of your shoe! Did you think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't care? Well, I noticed, and I damn well care. If you speak to me ever again, it had better be to apologize. I'll hear nothing else."

Jeers follow. Anne must have left. Right on cue, she marches back into the library. A few of the students offer quiet applause, but most try not to react at all.

Furiously, Anne begins shoving her supplies together. Gilbert has seen her so angry only once, and he knows he has to be careful about approaching her, but she's clearly distressed, and, friend or otherwise, he can't sit back and not even attempt to offer help or comfort. "Anne—"

Anne looks up at him, and cold fury aside, he can see anguish in her eyes. Though her voice is low and strong, there's just a bit of a quaver in her single word of reply: " _Don't._ "

And then she's gone.

* * *

* * *

_**part 2** _

Early summer has been kind enough to Anne. She's been able to visit her friends, and she's thrilled to be back at Green Gables with Matthew and Marilla… and even with Jerry, though he's often enough visiting his own family.

She apologized to Gilbert the day after the incident with Roy. He, of course, accepted as though she'd merely brushed against him and not inexplicably (well, entirely too explicably in her mind) snapped at him to keep his distance, and their friendship has remained untroubled since.

Roy never apologized. He religiously avoided Anne until the break commenced, which wasn't hard, given how much time Anne tends to spend in the library and how little Roy does. Honestly, she's fine with it. Not having to deal with a man like him is a relief. Anne knows the sort of people she prefers: honest, hard-working, warm, kind…

The image of Gilbert springs unbidden into her mind as it does all too often lately, and she shakes her head vigorously. She can't keep doing this: can't keep dreaming when she's the one who denied him. It's not fair to either of them, and while she might deserve the torture, Gilbert doesn't. He doesn't deserve to keep waiting, and she knows he is, because she sees the way he looks at her reflected in the way other young ladies, herself included, look at him. He deserves an uncomplicated life with someone who doesn't cause trouble—someone who can be everything he needs at exactly the moment he needs it.

No matter how hard Anne wishes, she'll never be that person. She knows what Gilbert's dreams mean to him because of what her dreams mean to her. She wants to see him succeed and support him however she can, and that includes not letting what she wants be a detriment to him, no matter how much it hurts.

She's always quiet for a day after she sees Gilbert. Even Jerry has noticed. She just treasures him so much, and while their time together is effortless, it's parting on merely friendly terms that's difficult. She's seen the way Mary and Bash only barely manage to hold their tongues when they stand there for a full ten minutes longer than they mean to, adding one last thing to the conversation, and insisting that that's going to be it, even though they know it isn't.

That's why the day before yesterday was so strange: Gilbert had seemed like he had something on his mind, but when she asked, all he would say was that he was tired. He'd certainly looked it.

Maybe she should pay him a visit.

Or maybe she shouldn't.

She won't know what's going on unless he tells her, of course, but what if… what if it's something that changes things between them?

It's so selfish to think that way. She's concerned about causing herself pain when he's the one who's troubled? She really doesn't deserve him: not as a friend, and certainly not as anything more if she can't face the inevitable changes life will throw their way.

"It's settled," she says to herself. She'll visit him, and he can choose whether or not to disclose what's on his mind, or in his heart.

She's just grabbing her hat when Marilla walks in the door, looking stricken.

"Marilla? What's wrong?" Anne takes Marilla's hands. "Is it Matthew? Is he…" She drops Marilla's hands just as quickly and tries to dart around Marilla, but Marilla grabs her arm, shaking her head.

"It's not Matthew, Anne," she corrects quietly. "It's… Gilbert. He's ill. The doctor was there in the night." She sighs. "Bash and his family are doing what they can in the hope that his fever breaks soon."

Anne can hear the unspoken _"If it doesn't…"_ , and without another word, she's out the door.

* * *

At first, Gilbert thinks he must have been in an accident. He aches all over. But the sensation of being both far too hot and far too cold at the same time tells him he's got a fever, and it's a bad one.

He's never felt this terrible. Of course he's been ill before, but he's generally healthy—generally able to bounce back.

He tries to get out of bed. His legs don't cooperate. He can't even sit up. He looks around. The room is… it's not right. His body isn't right. Nothing's right.

He has to find someone. Bash, Mary, Elijah…

"Blythe!"

Bash is next to him in an instant, pulling Gilbert's arm around his shoulders and hoisting him back into bed from where he'd collapsed on the floor. "Blythe, you shouldn't be trying to get out of bed. You shouldn't be trying to move! I told you I'd be back with water in a few minutes!"

Gilbert stares blankly at Bash. Surely he'd remember being told Bash was getting water a few minutes ago, but the last time Bash had looked in on him had been hours ago…

Unless it hadn't.

"Bash, how long have I been asleep?"

Bash looks stricken. "Not more than two minutes. But you've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon. Are you telling me you don't remember?"

Gilbert shrugs. God, even that hurts. "I remember falling over in the barn and you yelling. Mary bringing me toast and soup. Dellie poking her head in. But it's all fuzzy and jumbled." He swallows, and his next words are just above a whisper. "I'm in trouble, Bash."

Bash doesn't speak for a full minute. He tries, but he looks like he's choking. Whether it's on words or on tears, Gilbert doesn't know. Eventually, he manages to—gently—clap Gilbert's shoulder. "Nothing you can't get out of, and nothing we won't help you through. Now come on: let's get this water down you."

Gilbert manages only half the cup by himself. Bash has to hold it by the end. That makes no sense, but neither do most things right now.

"Bash…" Gilbert licks his lips. "Was Anne here earlier? I thought I saw…" He trails off. Bash's expression tells him all he needs to know. "If she comes by—"

"She will," Bash assures him.

"If she comes by, tell her I—"

"You'll tell her yourself, Blythe." Bash's tone is almost angry, but even in his current state, Gilbert can hear the undertone of helplessness. Bash clearly wants to scold Gilbert, but he can't bring himself to do it, not right now. Not like this.

"Just… tell her to come see me. No matter what." Gilbert can't keep up any pretense of a reassuring tone or smile. This family's seen so much tragedy, and Mary seeing her own illness through was a miracle they can't ask for again. If he survives this, it's going to be under his own power.

The trouble is, Gilbert truly doesn't know how much he has left in him.

* * *

Anne nearly runs the entire way to the Blythe-Lacroix house. Elijah and Bash are outside, as are Hazel and Dellie.

"Bash…" Anne gasps.

"Go on in." The quiet way Bash says it only confirms Anne's worst fears.

She tries not to barrel in. Mary's at the stove, Isaac bundled to her back. "Go on up," Mary tells her, trying to sound kind, though the dread creeps in.

Anne can barely open the door, her hands shake so badly. Gilbert lies on his bed. He's ghastly pale, and when he turns to look at her, he makes the smallest movements possible, and his eyes are glassy. She wants to run away; she can't see him like this, but it's too late.

"Anne…"

She's not sure she's heard correctly at first. Gilbert's voice is so faint that his breaths are louder. She goes over to the chair by the bed and sits, taking Gilbert's hand. "Hi, Gil."

"You're here. I thought you were earlier." Gilbert takes a few labored breaths and wheezes out a laugh. "I guess I could be imagining you now, too."

"You're not," Anne assures him. "You're not, and I can prove it."

Gilbert lets out a quiet scoff. "I've had every possible argument with you. I can imagine them all, plain as day."

Anne smiles tenderly and jibes, "I can guarantee you haven't. We haven't argued, for example, that the earth is flat."

"We both know it isn't," Gilbert tells her.

Anne raises an eyebrow. "Do we?"

She regrets the question when his laugh turns into a cough. She grabs the cup of water by his bed and helps him sit up as much as he can (which is not much at all) to drink, and then she gently sponges his forehead with the damp cloth in the bowl of water on his nightstand. When she's done and they're both settled, Anne murmurs, "Gil, it can't come to this."

He makes the faintest of noises, but doesn't respond. She squeezes his hand, clammy in both of hers, and he doesn't squeeze back. His breathing is shallow. Not caring that Mary will almost certainly hear, Anne begs tearfully, "Gil, please, open your eyes. I have something very important to tell you, but I need you to open your eyes."

He seems to try, but he can't. His breathing is even, but still too shallow. Anne might not have his grounding in medicine, but her lived experience tells her it's not good. "I need to tell you a story—a true one: Once upon a time, you saved me in the forest, and you asked me if there were any more dragons that needed slaying." She stops and takes a shaky breath, and tears start rolling down her cheeks. "I'd give anything to do the same for you right now—to share your pain or take it away, but I _can't._ I can only watch and hope and pray, and it hurts so much to see you like this…" She's sobbing in earnest now. "I'm scared, Gil. I'm scared that I'll lose you this time, that I won't get another chance. I'm sorry I wasn't ready before. I am now. I love you, Gilbert."

Gilbert doesn't cough. He doesn't stir. If he's heard her, she won't know it. She may never know.

That realization is the one that truly breaks her. "Gil, please, if you can hear me… please come back. I can't… I don't want to—I don't want this to be how we part. I didn't know I had a future like this until just before I met you, and I don't think it's a coincidence. I think you're meant to—no, I _want_ you be a part of mine, and I want to be a part of yours. Desperately. There's nothing I want more. Please, Gilbert…"

She stays there just a little while longer, holding his hand and crying. It's Bash who puts a hand on her shoulder, telling her Matthew's here to bring her home.

"As soon as there's any word, you'll know," he promises.

* * *

Anne doesn't eat that night, and only manages a piece of toast the next morning. It isn't until mid-afternoon that word arrives, and Anne nearly faints from nerves for the first time in her life, but she knows she has to see it through. It doesn't help that it's an exhausted Elijah who delivers it, meaning Anne can't read the expression on his face as well as she could read Bash's or Mary's.

"His fever's broken," Elijah blurts. "It's still… He's still very weak. But it's good news. We're pretty sure—it seems he'll make it. If he takes it a little slower, anyway. He… tried to get out of bed. I had to catch him. He said not to tell you, but, well…" He grins. "Bash told me I should, and I'm not about to question it."

Anne's hands fly to her mouth, and she's laughing and crying all at once. She's been given another chance, and she intends to take it. She just hopes Gilbert will, too.

* * *

"I thought you should know," Bash tells Gilbert that evening as he watches Gilbert slowly but determinedly feed himself the bowl of soup Bash has brought him, "Anne was here yesterday, just before your fever was at its worst. I don't know how clearly you remember, but you might want to try."

Gilbert's quiet for a moment, then he admits with a small but true smile, "I remember. Most of it, anyway."

Bash's grin is luminous. "And…?"

"And you aren't going to tell her. Nor will Mary, Elijah, or Hazel." Gilbert picks the bowl up off the tray it's on with only slightly trembling hands and drinks the rest of the broth. "She deserves to hear it from me."

"Fair enough." Bash takes the tray. "Just promise me you'll make it a story worth telling later."

Gilbert rolls his eyes, but he doesn't dismiss the idea, and he's clearly trying to hide a grin. Bash supposes it's as much as he can ask for. "Think you can spare a moment for Dellie?" he asks. "I've told her she's to be quiet and to stand in the door, but… Anne's not the only one who's relieved, Blythe."

Gilbert's expression turns serious for a moment, and he nods. "I know Bash. Thanks. And now—" the corners of his mouth lift once again "I'd like to see my niece."

* * *

* * *

_**part 3** _

Anne can't sleep.

Midsummer is always warm, of course, but tonight is unusually sticky, and Matthew and Marilla have gone to Charlottetown: Marilla for an eye appointment, and Matthew for a general checkup. Jerry is also away for the night, visiting his older sister, who has just given birth. Anne has assured them she'll be fine for one night. She is twenty, after all.

But after the thirty-eighth flip of the pillow, she's finally cast off the sheet and lurched out of bed. If she isn't going to sleep, she's going to write.

She's just sat down at her desk with a candle when a pebble hits the upper pane of her window. Curious, she rises from her desk and goes to the window, raising it and poking her head out. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, but standing there, not far from the bottom of the house, she sees—

" _Gilbert?_ " She pops her head back in and hurries down the stairs, practically throwing the door open to hiss "Gilbert, get over here!" She waits until he ambles onto the porch, but only just barely. "What are you doing here?! It's nearly midnight! Not that I wasn't up and not that I'm not glad to see you out and about, but…" She trails off, crossing her arms over her chest, then uncrossing one and putting her hand on Gilbert's forehead. "Well, you're not feverish," she murmurs, relieved.

"I wouldn't walk all the way over here if I was," he tells her. "It's been a few weeks, and it's a long road ahead of me still… But the fever is why I'm here, after a fashion. I was talking with Mary and Bash earlier today, and they asked if I was ever going to talk with you about what you said. Not for the first time, either, but I didn't want to do it while you were visiting. Prying ears, you know." He takes her hands. "I wasn't delirious. I couldn't talk, and I fell asleep at the end of it, but I know I wasn't delirious. I remember what you said, and I have to know: did you mean it?"

Anne's breath trembles. "Every word," she replies, her voice just above a whisper. "I realized that—that wanting to share pain, or take it away… that that's going to be the case whether we're friends or something more, because what we call ourselves doesn't change my feelings for you. I'm sorry that it took me so long—that it took me almost losing you—to understand that. Can you forgive me?"

Gilbert's answer doesn't come in words—at least, not at first. He pulls one of his hands from Anne's and caresses her cheek before leaning in and kissing her as if his life depends on it. It takes Anne only a second to throw her arms around him and respond in kind.

The kiss is still fairly short-lived, however, as Gilbert realizes he should actually say it and Anne realizes she needs to hear it. Gilbert pulls away to rest his forehead against Anne's, and starts, "I know you'll argue with me if I say there's nothing to forgive." They both chuckle quietly, and then he continues, "So yes, I can forgive you, and I have. Anne, I—" he pulls away and looks around, finally realizing: "Where are Matthew and Marilla?"

Anne bursts into laughter. "You didn't plan this? You just came over… at _midnight_... threw rocks at my window… asked me about my feelings… kissed me senseless… and only now do you realize that not getting caught is prudent?"

"I didn't expect you'd be up. I wouldn't have thrown that rock if that candle hadn't been lit. I was going to come over here again tomorrow and tell you, but you threw off my plans by being awake." Gilbert punctuates his statement by kissing the tip of Anne's nose. "And I'm guessing, with as loud as you're being, that the Cuthberts are out?"

"Yes, they're in Charlottetown for a few check-ups." Anne frowns briefly. "They'll be back tomorrow."

They hesitate for a moment, realizing the position they're in. Anne isn't conventional, and Gilbert is perfectly willing to break the mold, but this is a delicate situation.

It is also one that nobody has to find out about.

"Sit down, and let me get you some water," Anne murmurs, beckoning him inside. She'd made some tea before bed; that'll have to do, she decides. She pours them each half a cup from the teapot and sits down, taking a sip from her cup and watching Gilbert's hands as he drinks. They're steady where they hadn't been three weeks ago, even after he walked longer than he has in a month put together to get here.

Gilbert has, once again, noticed her appraisal. "I'm still not convinced you aren't cut out for medicine," he half-jokes.

"Medicine isn't cut out for me, Gilbert," Anne tells him. "I can write about it, but please don't ask me to perform it."

"Fair enough." Anne's hand has fallen between them on the table. Gilbert picks it up and presses a kiss to her knuckles, and then continues to hold her hand gently, running his thumb back and forth across the backs of her fingers. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows that there will be more late nights like this, just sitting up and talking, and he realizes just how much he's looking forward to them.

And as the quiet minutes wear on, he realizes just how much he's looking forward to sleeping beside Anne. To waking up beside her. To groggy kisses snatched as they prepare for their days or wind down at night, to just holding her close… to all of it. And while the candle between them has burned down to a barely flickering nub, he can see the tender expression on Anne's face mirroring his.

He doesn't want to leave. Never mind that he's too tired and that this was a remarkably bad choice, given that he's still recovering from his illness; even if that weren't the case, he still wouldn't want to leave. He just happens to have an excuse to stay. "You don't mind if I spend the night in one of the chairs down here, do you?"

Anne frowns. Has she misjudged how well he's doing? Of course Gilbert must be tired from the walk, but if he can't make it up a set of stairs… "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a bed? We have a spare, you know," she tells him.

"What about Jerry?" Gilbert asks.

Anne isn't sure which way he's asking, so she answers both. "He's visiting his sister. And we have a spare room even with him living here part-time." When Gilbert still hesitates, Anne softens her voice further. "Please, Gilbert, you'll be much more comfortable in a bed if you can make the stairs."

Gilbert swallows and nods slowly. "Alright."

He ascends the stairs with seemingly no trouble whatsoever, and Anne realizes what his hesitancy might actually be due to. She almost laughs, considering he's the one who asked to stay. Apparently, when Gilbert's plans go out the window, they really go out the window. He's an adaptable person, but he's also driven to get things right, and in matters of the heart, it's so easy to get them wrong. That's something Anne knows all too well.

The spare room is two doors down from hers. "Call if you need anything. I'm…" she realizes he knows where her room is. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Good night, Gilbert." She rises just enough onto her toes for the briefest of kisses, then turns to head to her room.

It's fourteen steps to her door, but tonight, it feels like a hundred and forty. She manages to enter her room and lie down… only to get right back out of bed and half-tear out of her door into the hallway—

—only to run into Gilbert. He catches her by the shoulders, and for a moment, Anne thinks he's going to pull her in for another kiss, but the look in his eyes (what little she can see) is almost defeated. "Anne, I have no right to ask this. I shouldn't even be here. But I just want… When you were there, beside me, I knew that I was going to be fine because I had to. Because I wanted to. I know that things haven't always been easy between us, but I just want to feel the… reassurance I felt with you again."

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," Anne breathes. "I don't want to deny you any of that. Gilbert, please just tell me what it is you want."

"I want to stay with you." Gilbert's voice wavers only a little bit. He continues, "It's a chance I almost didn't have, and I know that it's a chance I won't have again for a while. I just want to hold you; to be held by you. That's what I want."

Anne pulls away, taking Gilbert by the hand and leading him into her room. Her bed is small, but it's not going to matter, because they're not going to let each other go.

Gilbert settles down first. It'll be easier for Anne to fill the space that's left. She does, settling against Gilbert. It's warm enough that they shouldn't be able to sleep, but not ten minutes later, a breeze picks up, and Gilbert pulls the light blanket over them. Their feet stick out at the end to ensure they don't get too warm still, and it's perfect; neither of them would trade this moment for anything else in the world, and it's not long before they fall asleep.

* * *

Dawn breaks too soon. When the sun finally peeks above the bottom of the window frame, Anne groans and buries her face in Gilbert's chest. She smiles as she feels him chuckle, and she squeaks when he rolls onto his back, pulling her on top of him. "Gilbert! I know you walked over here, but you are still recovering."

"Anne, I'm _fine,_ " Gilbert promises. "Better, actually, for being here with you." He leans in for a kiss, but winces. "Ow! I know I'm not dreaming, Anne; you didn't have to pinch me."

Anne shrugs innocently. "It didn't hurt when I pinched myself." She lets out a yelp when Gilbert gently squeezes her sides. "Alright! You've made your point."

"I thought as much." Gilbert pulls Anne in, and this time, their lips meet. One of his hands sinks into her hair, and the other arm wraps around her waist. Anne's hands cup his face, her fingers just sliding into his curls. Her mouth opens against Gilbert's and she makes a noise in the back of her throat when his arms tighten around her, and she figures she can ignore the voice in the back of her head telling her that this is why Gilbert said last night that he couldn't ask this of her for just a little while longer. They're not going to do anything they really oughtn't, not with years of schooling left between them, and certainly not with Gilbert still recovering.

When they finally break apart a few minutes later, their cheeks are definitely flushed, and they're breathing hard—Gilbert harder than Anne. Anne bites her lip and runs the back of her hand across Gilbert's forehead and down the side of his face. "Still alright?" she whispers. When Gilbert nods, never breaking Anne's gaze, she brushes her lips against his one last time before swiveling to place her feet on the floor and stand to check her clock. Gilbert sighs and stretches, but stays where he is.

Anne crosses her arms and jerks her head toward the door. "Out. I need to get dressed."

Gilbert certainly doesn't linger, but he doesn't even pretend to look chastened or flustered, and that flusters Anne just a little as she composes herself for the day. She's worried when he's not in the upstairs hallway when she emerges, but she's smiling by the time she makes it down to the kitchen. Gilbert's found the scones she made yesterday and is rummaging through the pantry for jam. Anne wraps her arms around him from behind, and Gilbert freezes for less than half a second before he takes one of Anne's hands and presses a soft kiss to her palm, then, having found what he was looking for, turns for another kiss.

They settle down at the table with scones and fresh tea and eat mostly in silence, just gazing fondly at each other.

Anne keeps sneaking looks at the window now, and when she finally catches Gilbert catching her at it, she sighs and says, "Not that I'm intrinsically opposed to the idea, but we're as good as married if anyone learns about this. I don't know what you intend to tell Bash, but I hope it's convincing."

Gilbert grimaces. "Not that I'm opposed, either, but Mary will order me to dig my own grave and oversee the task herself if she finds out, so you'd best believe my story will be irrefutable, if nothing else."

"To that end…" Anne takes their plates, cutlery, and cups to the sink and begins to wash them.

Gilbert leans against the table and dries as Anne hands him the finished items. When that's finished, he takes her hands. "I know you weren't lying when you said you weren't opposed to getting married, and I want you to know I'm not, either. When I finish medical school, that's what I want—what I've wanted for… longer than I should admit. I want to spend my days and nights with you. I want to tell people that the person who wrote the article they're so worked up about is my wife. I want to see your dreams come true, and I want you to see mine come true."

Tears are rolling down Anne's cheeks, and she doesn't care. She's beaming. "I like the sound of that," she confirms.

"And the sound of a house with a garden that's always changing, where we can invite our family and friends, and where we can both come home at the end of the day and know we have each other?" Gilbert wants to know.

Anne nods vigorously. "All of that and more. And even if it's not more, it'll be with you. That's what matters most."

"You are, as ever, correct." Gilbert's own eyes are filling, and he swipes the back of his wrist across them so he doesn't have to let go of Anne's hands. "So… when would you like me to ask? After the Cuthberts are back so that I don't have to explain why I proposed over breakfast dishes?"

"Sooner rather than later is my preference," Anne answers. "But yes, Matthew and Marilla would probably like to know before it 'officially' happens. Bash and Mary, too."

Gilbert groans. "Bash is going to be insufferable."

Anne pulls him in for a brief kiss. "Perhaps that'll make it more bearable?"

She's not surprised when Gilbert pulls her in for a much longer, somewhat more scandalous kiss. She quite happily returns it measure for measure, releasing him only reluctantly. "Jerry will be back soon," she murmurs. Quickly, she adds, "And Matthew and Marilla will be back this afternoon. As for me, I'll be visiting Ruby. In case there's anything you might like to address with my family."

"I'll keep that in mind." Gilbert kisses her one last time. "I love you, Anne. Very much."

"I love you, too, Gilbert," Anne replies, her voice quiet and a little teary once again. "Until … later."

"It won't be too long," Gilbert assures her as he pulls on his shoes. Anne watches him go, her smile serene. It isn't the start she imagined. It's not the start Gilbert deserved. But the future is still to be sculpted, and they'll do it side by side, together, for each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally just going to be the summary and part 3 with a couple of small flashbacks, because this fic was mostly going to be based on the lines "will you please let me stay the night/no one will ever know" with the proposal because of course, but then the flashbacks got too big (and significantly more angsty) and there were flashbacks within flashbacks… and so, the first two parts came into being.
> 
> Along with this piece's namesake song (Everclear's "I Will Buy You a New Life"), there are also elements of The Green Children's "Dragons" (Which, okay, side tangent: I swear to God I've read something about fevers at one point being referred to as dragons, or being caused by them, but with the influx of dragon lore on the internet in the years since the song came out, my Google skills have been bested by the deluge of that, and ALL I WANTED was for Anne to tell Gilbert that in mythology, fevers were called/caused by dragons, and then have her segue into her confession, but I CANNOT justify putting that in there if it isn't true! UGH…) and the Gin Blossoms' "Until I Fall Away".
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and feelings!


End file.
